When You're a Stranger (SniperSpy)
by TheSlothIsHere
Summary: -SNIPERSPY- Sniper has chose not to love his whole life out of fear, until he meets a mysterious stranger who drives him crazy, in both good and bad ways. But as he gets to know this mysterious man, he realizes that he is more familiar to him than he could have ever known and continuing to love him would mean putting everything at risk.
1. Bar Fight

Sniper sighed heavily as he lurched into the camper van. It had been a long battle to say the least, and with the recent untrustworthiness of RED's respawn, BLU was gaining an upper hand. The nerves of it were getting to the rest of the team, and Sniper was no exception. He hated and loved these battles at the same time. He loved the rush and the adrenaline that made him feel young again, but he hated the pain and suffering that surrounded him and teammates every day in the endless cycle of war.

Every other weekend, the mercenaries had off to buy personal supplies like clothes, extra food, luxuries, etc. There wasn't enough time to make it home to Australia to see his parents, but Sniper was thankful for the two and a half days of peace and quiet that he received. He was also grateful for his chance to drive in town. He especially loved it there, because the town had everything he would ever need, but it was never bustling or loud. It had a sleepy quality about it that most small towns do, and it reminded Sniper of the ideals he had set for himself long ago.

The tall, lanky Australian pulled into the lot of his favorite bar in town. Unlike Tavish, he preferred to have the professional civility of not drinking on the job, and so he looked forward to treating himself with alcohol on the weekends. As he walked in, he nodded at the barkeeper and the man smiled. He knew the assassin, and he knew what his usual drinks were, there was no need for words. Sniper appreciated this, since he'd never been one for talking, much. Seemed to unimportant to him. He recognized all of the silhouttes in the bar from his many visits and the fact that Tuefort never grew much. The same people came and went every day, it was never much of a surprise. But he gave a slight start when he noticed someone new sitting at the bar. Someone with a strikingly similar outline, just not of that bar.

Skeptically, Sniper sat next to him, glancing at the smaller man out of the corners of his aviators. He was visibly skinny, like he didn't eat enough, and he had a stature that made him almost seem to disappear when Sniper wasn't focusing directly on him. _This bloke is really pissing me off. _Sniper thought to himself. _Maybe I have met him before. Something about the way he moves is bloody infuriatin'. _Sniper shook his head to clear his thoughts and turned his attention to copious amounts of alcohol until he could no longer think straight.

"How's the war goin'?" The bartender asked as he handed Sniper another beer.

"Bloody long." Sniper shook his head and took a sip. "But the good thing about bein' bloody mad all the time is that it makes it easier to blow the head off them damn BLUs." He grinned as the bartender let out a chuckle. The mysterious man next to him didn't stiffen per say, but his posture certainly changed. The bar was too dimly lit for the man's face to be made out, and that seemed to bother Sniper even more.

"How 'bout you?" The bartender tilted his head towards the other man. The man didn't meet his gaze, but lifted his chin enough to show he was paying attention. "What do you think of the whole war?"

"It's pointless." Said the man. He had an American accent from somewhere in the Midwest it sounded like. His voice was deep, but gravelly and it grated on Sniper's nerves. At the insult to the war he'd been risking his life every day to fight, Sniper sat up straighter, blood turning hot in his veins. He wanted to started a fight with this guy, he just needed a reason, and there it was. Sniper stood up shakily and quickly, and to his surprise the other man was already up and in a defensive position. _Good reflexes. _He remarked silently.

"Now, hold on men-" The bartender started lazily, and the other man turned to look the bartender up and down angrily. Sniper took the opportunity to punch him across the left side of his face, hard. You could hear the sound of knuckles hitting skin and a mark began forming on the man's jaw within a second or two. The man was seething and he clenched and unclenched his fists angrily. He swung at Sniper, and he dodged, but the man had been prepared for that and hit him in the gut, hard enough for Sniper to buckle over in pain. The two men started going at it, until the bartender broke them apart and was forced to kick them both out. Through the entire fight. Sniper never got a good look at the man's face.

Once the sunlight hit his eyes, reality began to sink into Sniper a little more. He sighed heavily once again, realizing what he'd just done. "Hey, mate, I'm sorry. I had a rough week, I didn't mean t' take it out on you." Sniper stood up, brushing the dirt off of his pants, and he held his hand out to help the other man up. The man took it hesitantly and stood up lightly. He wiped a trail of blood from his nose and shook his head.

"Don't mention it." The man looked Sniper in the eyes for the first time and Sniper's breath caught in his throat. There was something beautifully unnerving about the man. He had large, gray eyes that seemed to look straight into Sniper and a thin mouth underneath a pointed nose. His hair was brown and straight and he hadn't shaved recently.

Sniper had known that he liked men from the time he was maybe fifteen. It hadn't been hard for him to discover, just hard for him to admit. First to himself, then his parents. They were the only people he ever told. His father was never too keen on it, but his mother had been supportive. Sniper didn't tell anyone because he knew how unkind this world was to men like him, and he never went after men, even if he knew that they were the same as him in that respect. He thought it would be better for people to just think he was bad with girls (which he was). But it was men who looked like this man standing here that challenged.

Sniper could feel himself blushing and he hated that. The shorter man smirked a little and didn't pull his hand away. Sniper blinked and he was gone, already part way down the road and fading into the distance.


	2. Deceit

Sniper reluctantly woke up early at the end of the weekend, knowing another two weeks of fighting was ahead of him. He wanted nothing more than to sleep in again, and forget that the war existed completely, but he knew he couldn't, so he rolled out of his bunk onto the floor and sighed. On the bunk above him, his own team's Spy was already gone and ready. He was an early riser and he never let Medic or Sniper, who roomed with him, see him before he was completely dressed and ready. Not that either of them really wanted to, anyway.

Medic was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, he could hear the water running. Sniper pulled his pants on slowly and buttoned his RED shirt. After he was dressed and ready he grabbed breakfast, which Engie had made like he always did at the start of the week, and started towards the gates. "What's it gonna be?" He asked Heavy, who was walking even slower, behind him.

"CTF, old man!" Scout yelled as he ran past both of them, and then stopped, impatiently, at the gate. Sniper guessed he'd poured some bonk! In his orange juice. "What the little one said." Heavy nodded, his deep voice grumbling. Sniper nodded a polite thanks and waited for the gates to open. They finally did and they were followed by loud war cries and woops, and some crude gestures to the other team.

They were in the sawmill, and Sniper had perched in his favorite unseen spot above the small pond. His team's Demo ran through the pond, yelling about freedom, but Sniper squinted skeptically. Tavish had died there a few minutes ago, there was no way he'd respawned yet. Sighing at the messy mistake the BLU Spy had made, Sniper shot him through the knee cap and he instantly fell. For a moment, his mannerisms were no longer Tavish's, they were more catlike and scrappy, and the howl of pain was an obvious octave higher. Sniper grinned, and shot him through the elbow. The perfectly manicured disguise faltered once again. Sniper enjoyed playing with a prey a little too much. More than he cared to admit. How much he loved seeing the look of shocked pain and fury scared him.

The BLU Spy looked up, exactly to where Sniper was sitting and made eye contact with him. His eyes were full of pain and hate. Shivers ran down Sniper's spine, he hadn't expected the Spy to know right where he was shooting from. He'd have to switch spots after he killed him.

"Enough with your games, bushman." The Spy frowned and Sniper put a bullet in his head. He sighed in annoyance at having to move and changed to the walk-across above the respawn room. As he was setting up his rifle a few minutes later, Engie tottered up to him, hands on his hips, smiling happily.

"I saw what ya' did to that there Spy over by the pond." He chuckled. "I was settin' up a mini sentry some bit away an' I knew that had to be you. I wanted to thank ya', that skinny little bastard was sappin' my babies left and right." Engie shook his head and chuckled again, at the memory of the Spy being mocked. Sniper chuckled, too, absently.

"Ah, anytime, Dell. You never have to thank me for killin' one of those bloody-" A shot rang out through the area, stopping Sniper midsentence. From the pain spreading through him like cream in coffee, he knew that it had been him who was shot. Engie was no longer standing in front of him, it was the BLU Spy, revolver in hand. He had shot him in the shoulder, shattering it. He shot him once again in the other shoulder, and then his left hip before he had time to react. Sniper almost passed out immediately from the pain, but he held his ground. He couldn't decide if he was happy about that or not.

The Spy leaned closer to him, until he was almost straddling the injured Sniper on the floor and removed his knife from his pocket. He ripped through the buttons on Sniper's shirt, without any facial expression. He was eerily calm. Sniper was trying to struggle away from him, but with the use of only one leg, it was very difficult. The Spy was not even putting his weight on him, but he was dangerously close. Closer to Sniper than any man had ever been before. As he started cutting away the shirt, Sniper made an alarmed sound and desperately tried to get away again.

"_Détendres,_ I am just getting even." The Spy muttered in annoyance, and without any warning, stabbed his knife into the Sniper's lower stomach. Instead of stabbing, however, he cut, like he was writing something. He stood up and looked at Sniper, with almost pity, and shot him in the head, killing him.


	3. Written in Blood

Even after two more respawns and an hour or two after the battle, Sniper's stomach was still hurting him. During dinner, he made an excuse to get out early and crept quietly into the support dorm. He opened the bathroom door and closed it behind himself, locking it in the process. He unbuttoned the bottom buttons on his shirt, and pulled it up, to see if a scar had been left. It was very rare, but on occasion, certain battle scars would be left faintly on the bodies of the mercenaries like little forgotten letters of the things they'd done to each other.

Sniper gasped audibly when he saw his stomach. Three words were etched almost invisibly into his skin.

_Tu sont moi_

"What the bloody hell does that even mean!?" He let out in an angry whisper.

"_Tu sont moi. _You are me." A quiet and calm voice came from directly behind Sniper. He jumped and reached for his kukri, and holding it aloft. With the small amount of room in the bathroom, he was surprised he hadn't hit the Spy.

"Relax, it is simply me." The RED Spy uncloaked and raised an eyebrow. "Still can't trust ya'" Sniper reasoned uneasily. "What d'ya' want, anyway?" He grimaced at his teammate.

"It is unlike you to sneak off during dinner like that. I saw you head into our dormitory, and I knew something was wrong. I am surprised at this, however. It was the BLU Spy, _non_?" Spy's hands were at his sides, and he didn't have his knife. Then again, it was probably hidden just a mere hand gesture away. Sniper sighed.

"Yeah. I pissed him off earlier, an' this is what he did. I hate askin' you of all people, but what do you think he meant by the whole thing?" Sniper crossed his arms, and tried to hide his embarrassment. Spy thought for a moment, like he was choosing his words carefully.

"The BLU Spy is a funny man, I can tell you that. He is never what you expect him to be. We trained together, back in France. I assume what he's trying to tell you is that you and him are not so different. Maybe in battle, maybe in other things. Things you have decided in your mind that I don't know about." Spy looked up at Sniper, playfully, but Sniper's stomach lurched. He couldn't know, could he? Sniper had never told anyone that Spy could get the information from... Spy noticed the troubled look on Sniper's face. "I was just playing around, Michael. I think that is enough talk of this for the evening." The Spy cloaked again, leaving the Sniper alone with his thoughts and questions as to how Spy remembered his name. He'd only ever heard it once.

An hour later, Sniper was balling his fists, and pacing the battleground. "I know yer' out here, ya bloody spook. If you have something you want to settle with me, than put it out here. Don't be such a wuss about it, yeah?" Sniper yelled in random directions, hoping he was right about the Spy patrolling after dark. Hoping he didn't just look like he was losing it.

Sure enough, however, the BLU Spy uncloaked directly in front of him. Sniper took a step back. He hadn't heard even the faintest trace of footsteps. He blushed and stepped back closer to the Spy. The two assassins observed each other for a long moment. Brown eyes met gray and there was something startlingly familiar in those lashes. Sniper closed his eyes for a moment, and unclenched one of his fists.

"So what do you want?" He asked, probably louder than he should have been. The Spy didn't say anything, he just watched him for a moment.

"Did you know, Michael, that between battles, there is a hole in the contract, an oversight that no one has ever noticed? After hours, we are no longer mercenaries, we are just men with particular skills." Spy stared up at the Sniper the entire time he spoke, never breaking eye contact. His voice was annoyingly soothing and calm, even though he was standing in front of who might be his greatest enemy of all time.

"How do you know my name?" Michael demanded, jabbing a finger at the Spy, who didn't flinch away like most would. The Spy paused for a moment, and then continued. "We become men who are no longer held back by the boundaries set for us by work or war. There is a freedom in that, a freedom I think a man like yourself admires."

"What the bloody hell?" Sniper muttered. "What are you ragging on about?" Sniper was defensive now that he knew the Spy held more information over himself than he held over the Spy.

"You should not act like such a wounded animal, Michael. The second you are not powerful, you are scared. That is why you fight from a distance, because you are scared."

"An' that's why you fight as a thousand other people than yourself, did ya' ever think of that? That yer afraid?" Sniper narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. The Spy grinned, and frowned at the same time, which Sniper didn't know was possible until that moment. "You intrigue me, Michael. And I think I do the same to you." With those words, Sniper grew even more confused, but he also knew suddenly that he had been right about the Spy being afraid. Afraid of what, he didn't know. Before he could say anything, however, the Spy disguised himself as a familiar face.

Before Sniper, suddenly stood the stranger from the bar. The infuriating one who he'd fought and made up with. The one who brought up feelings he'd tried so hard to swallow down all these years. "That... That was you?" Was all he could muster, in shock and slight disappointment. The man nodded, and Sniper felt weak in the knees. "Why didn't you kill me, then? When you had the chance?"

"I want to be your friend, Michael. I am tired of this fighting nonsense, it is all rubbish. All of it, and you know it as well as I do. I fight for the money, and because I am not prepared to face the dangers that will arise if I quit. I was fine with that, but I've observed you. You're a different breed, Michael. Something about you is not like the others, and that is rare to find."

"Is, is that your real face?" Sniper questioned awkwardly. Spy grinned a little. "Not entirely, no. _Bonne nuit._" He cloaked and faded into nothing.


	4. Mad Panic

The next day's battle was the fiercest Michael had seen a long time. The intensity of it at all made him feel alive, in a horrible way. The exhilaration got to him more than he cared to admit. That was, until he bumped into some slim, invisible force. The Spy uncloaked quickly, staring at him with wild, terrified eyes. The light blue mask over the man's face told Sniper who it was immediately. "What the hell are you doing here?" The Sniper asked, his voice close to roaring. "Get out of here!" He shoved the man backwards, surprised at how easy it was to shove him back. He was furious that the Spy had the audacity, to... to... to show up in RED territory like this. Did he expect special treatment from the Sniper now, or something? Was it just his way of getting a little ahead in this war?

"_Je ne peux pas, desol_é_. s'il te plait, mon ami_-" His French was frantic, and as he spoke, his eyes glanced around in a crazed fashion, watching for any of Michael's teammates. For the first moment since the battle began, the Sniper felt himself slowing down, the adrenaline calming down. He felt pity for the man in front of him. He grabbed both of Spy's arms, forcing his gray eyes to look into Michael's.

"Calm down. It's okay." He said calmly, exaggerating his breathing in hopes that Spy would catch on, and stop his hyperventilating. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to do much. A rattling noise started to come from the back of the spy's throat, like he was either coughing or choking at the same time. Sniper started to panic, himself, inwardly. The assassin in front of him was having a full-blown panic attack in the middle of the battle. Sniper didn't know what to do, and instinctively, he wrapped his arms around the smaller man.

The Spy was warm, and despite the fact he was alarmingly bony and small, he was one of those people who is comfortable to hold. He could feel the man's shoulder blades through his suit, and he wanted to hold him tighter, to stop the panic. He started quietly shushing the spy, and reminding him again that it would be okay. Finally, the Spy began to calm down. His breathing normalized and the rattling cough started to fade quickly.

The Spy looked up at him, and quickly stepped away. "_Desol_é." He cloaked, before the Sniper could say anything. Michael relled around, trying to find the man again, but he couldn't. He was gone. Sniper returned to the battle, and did his best to forget the occurrence.

That evening, Sniper was sitting alone in his bunk. His team's spy and medic were God-knows-where and Michael was grateful for the quiet. He was sitting on his bunk, cross legged, thinking. His thoughts were suddenly disturbed, however, by the sudden appearance of a man in front of him, uncloaking. It was the BLU Spy. Of course. The silence remained.

"I am sorry." The Spy didn't meet Michael's eyes, looking down, instead. "That is what I came here to say." He sounded like an ashamed child.

"You don't have to apologize, mate. Jus' tell me what was goin' on." Michael swallowed the millions of question as to how exactly the Spy had gotten in to their base. "That is none of your concern!" The Spy hissed, before Sniper could even finish speaking. He clenched his gloved fists, and dropped them to his sides. "I... I cannot talk about it, right now. Maybe ever. I... I don't feel... comfortable discussing this with someone that I don't..." Spy trailed off, still not meeting the Sniper's eyes.

"That's fine, I guess. But I meant it, about not showing up on our side during the battle. You'll just get both of us killed. The blokes around here aren't too keen on seein' someone like you." Sniper shrugged, running his hands along the side of the bed, out of awkwardness. Spy's eyebrows shot up at the beginning of Sniper's sentence. Sniper noticed, and continued. "You know, you don't have to share it with me, if you don't... want to, I guess?" Sniper shrugged again. He was inwardly cringing at his awkward words. Spy's head shot up, however, making eye contact with Michael.

Michael had forgotten how piercing his eyes were. They were like stray stars that had fallen down onto the Earth, and they captivated him in a way he didn't know was possible.

The Spy stared at him for a moment, not saying anything. His fists unclenched, but they stayed strained. The Sniper started to feel awkward again, not really sure what was going on. Before he could even think about what was going on, the Spy's hand was on the side of his face, pulling him into a kiss. It only lasted for a few seconds, but it was the best kiss Michael had ever had in his life. The Spy was a good kisser; there was no doubt about that in any way. The feeling of the kiss distracted Michael from the questions swarming his head like ants.

How had the Spy known about Sniper's feelings? Or had he not known at all, and just gone with it? Was this actual feelings or just the Spy's way of bringing this out of him?

But when the Spy pulled out of the kiss, and looked into Sniper's eyes, there was a tiny moment where his eyes looked so vulnerable, but so hopeful, that Sniper knew it had to be real.


	5. Secretive Conversations

Sniper didn't see Spy for the next two days. Not even on the battlefield. Usually, the masked mercenary took every chance he could get to steal into the Sniper's hideout and stab him, even since they had become whatever they were. But since the... the kiss, the Spy had been nowhere to be seen near Sniper. It gave Michael a little time to think about it, which he was grateful for. Michael had sworn to himself that no matter what, he would never be involved with anyone. It was too risky to be with a man, and he felt too bad to be with a woman, when he knew he couldn't love her. Even if he was the Spy, he was still no exception. They could be friends, sure, but not... lovers. The word felt both hopeful and fearful in Michael's head.

And then came Friday's battle. It was a control point fight with everyone on board. The Sniper had just barely found himself a perch when the Spy was on him. One of the Spy's fancy knives was out and extended towards Sniper's throat. The spy uncloaked into vision. Behind the mask, his eyes were wild and his mouth was pulled into a forced grimace. His hand was shaking against Sniper's neck as he held them against the rock wall behind him. Michael could feel the expensive leather of his gloves, and instead of scaring him, it reassured him. If the Spy was shaking, he was just as scared. But before he could think further, the Spy started to drive the blade into his neck, drawing blood almost instantly. Sniper shrieked and shoved the Spy backwards, off of the short cliff, but the Spy cloaked before Michael could see where he landed. He ran around, wildly slashing his kukri, but to no avail. The Spy had done what he does best: disappear. For some odd reason, this infuriated the Sniper.

Ten minutes later, Sniper was watching the RED Pyro battle a BLU Demo when he heard commotion from a little ways behind him. He turned around quickly to see the RED Scout knocking the BLU Spy to the floor. He knew he should just turn away, but something kept him rooted, watching the scuffle. His Scout slammed his bat down on the BLU Spy's stomach with a sickening sound and the Spy retched in pain. RED Scout grinned and lifted the bat again. It seemed impossibly high and it reminded Michael of a roller coaster, right at the point of tipping over into the drop. And it went ov-

"'Ey, Scout!" Michael yelled, stopping the Scout in his tracks. "Medic/Heavy duo are going after the checkpoint, they need all offense hands over there immediately, I'll take care of the damn Spy." Sniper's stomach went cold when he realized what he'd just said and done. The Scout nodded his head and ran off, thinking nothing of it. He was egotistical and stupid enough to believe that they would need him against an ubered Heavy. It wasn't exactly a lie, Sniper had seen the duo going towards the checkpoint, but he knew that they wouldn't need Scout.

The masked man on the ground looked up at the Sniper, with large eyes. They weren't innocent eyes, that was for sure, but something about them made it too hard for Michael to just ruthlessly strike him like Scout had. He sheathed his kukri and held out his hand to the man on the floor. Spy didn't take the hand at first, just looked at it in surprise. "_Porquoi?" _He muttered.

"I dunno what that means." Sniper frowned, and almost took his hand back, before the Spy quickly grabbed a hold of it and pulled himself up off the floor. The Spy hesitated another second, before thanking the Sniper in an odd voice and running off in the opposite direction.

For the rest of the battle, the Sniper felt no pricks in his back and Dell later told Michael that not a single one of his sentries had been sapped towards the end of the battle. The two walked together back to the base, and sat down in the main room. In the corner of the room, over a game of chess, Medic and the RED Spy were conversing in French with urgent tones and serious faces.

"_C'est mauvais, Docteur. En les weekends, ils..._" The Spy trailed off, watching the two who had just entered. Medic, frowned and made his next move, before turning his attention to the other men.

"Did we interrupt? Sorry guys, we'll be off-" Engie started, but the Spy shook his head and Medic spoke up.

"_Nein_, we were just finishing. Sit here as long as you'd like. It is everyone's room, _ja_?" Medic smiled in his usual charming way and returned to their game. Michael wondered why they were being so secretive about the whole ordeal. Dell knew some Latin, but nearly enough to understand the Spy's French and Michael knew none, so if they had just continued talking in their native tongues, they could have continued easily. Then again, when had Medic and Spy ever done anything the expected way? Michael had wished for different roommates since he'd been enrolled in the RED team. They were clean and respectful for the most part, but both of them were very secretive and very strange. He'd wished for someone more like Engie or Heavy who were almost always in a good mood and easy to talk to.

He walked to his room and took off his battle uniform in exchange for some comfier clothes. As he took off his shirt, he caught a glimpse in the mirror of the scar the Spy had left on him. "_Tu es moi_." It was fading quickly, and with every respawn Sniper had, it diminished even more. He remembered the RED Spy telling him it was the other Spy trying to say that they weren't so different. Maybe he was right. Maybe they were much more similar than he'd ever thought.


	6. A Spy's Word

Finally, the weekend rolled around again. Sniper was thankful that he'd get his break from the battle and his teammates. Maybe it would give him some time to think over everything going on with the BLU Spy. The bell rang through the hallways of the base and Sniper could hear many of the mercs running to get out of the building, and heard the groaning of those who chose to stay as they were pushed past the others. He slowly trudged to the exit of the base, and got into his van. He sighed before turning the key and buckling his seat belt. He was about to shift it into drive when the unmistakable noise of a spy uncloaking made him jump. The BLU Spy was in the passenger seat, still in his full suit and mask.

"What the bloody hell?!" Sniper yelled as quietly as he could, looking around nervously.

"Relax, your teammates are all gone." The Spy's annoyingly soothing voice made Sniper sigh anxiously and lean back in the driver's seat.

"What are you doin' here?" Michael said through gritted teeth. The Spy looked over at him, one eyebrow raised and then looked back at the dashboard.

"I wish to talk with you. I promise that is all."

"Yeah but a Spy's word ain't worth much, innit?" Sniper bit back, expecting a retort from the Spy, but he just laughed.

"You're too smart, Michael." The Spy relaxed his posture in a seemingly effortless way and looked over the Sniper. "Pick somewhere to eat and we will talk."

Sniper hesitated. This seemed off. He thought for a moment before speaking. "Rickey's," He finally grinned. It was very private, and about a forty minute drive away. But that's why he chose it. He picked it for its reputation as a dingy restaurant, usually reserved only for ruffians who happened to drive through. It was the sort of place Spy would hate with all of his might, if he agreed, Sniper knew he was for real. Spy closed his eyes in defeat for a second after Sniper said it, but he quickly reopened them.

"_D'accord_. Fine." He sighed. Sniper raised his eyebrows, and started the car. They didn't speak much on the drive, but that was fine with Michael. A little part of him was scared that once the Spy realized how awkward and strange he was, that his little spurt of interest would be over. But then again, wouldn't that be better for both of them? Michael didn't know. When they reached the restaurant, Spy quickly stood up and stepped into the back of the van.

"The toilet doesn't work." Michael said, wondering what in the world he was doing. Spy scrunched up his nose in disgust. He pulled out his cigarette case and quickly transformed with the simple press of something inside. The suit-wearing, high-class man Michael was used to no longer stood before him. A young man with dark, messy hair and a leather jacket stood in his van, pulling a cigarette out of the apparently multi-functional case and lighting it. His strong jawline and long lashes were different from the man that Sniper had fought in the bar, but those silver eyes were the same. Among the bikers and teenage rebels that frequented the place, the Spy might fit in better than Michael did.

They walked inside and grabbed the farthest corner booth, away from everyone else. No one made any strange glances at them or looked their way. Sniper was a known mercenary and Spy fit right in. A scantily-clad girl with tattoos up her arms took their order and smiled warmly at Spy. He grinned back at her, throwing in a wink as he ordered. For a moment, Sniper wondered a familiar thought. What if the Spy had no genuine interest in him at all? What if he didn't even like men? It was very likely the Spy was just using him to get team secrets, but before Michael could ponder on it farther, the Spy set his hands down on the table.

"So, let us talk." He said in a warm voice. Michael hesitated, not sure what to say. Spy seemed to notice this and said, "I'll begin." Michael sighed in relief. "I am very sorry for what happened on Tuesday evening. I... I had recently escaped from a rather nasty situation and I was very out of it. That is no excuse, I know, but I deeply regret it."

Michael could tell that the Spy had rehearsed that phrase over and over again, and despite his easy-going and relaxed posture and expression, the Sniper could see the slight worry lines on his face. "It's all good mate, really. Nothin' to be ashamed of. Everyone's got their days, yeah?" Sniper attempted a kind smile, but he was sure it came off more like a grimace. Either way, the Spy's face seemed remarkably less tense and he rolled his shoulders back.

"But I am not sorry for the kiss." Spy said, in the same tone he had used on the waitress minutes ago. Sniper choked for a second on the gulp of coke in his mouth.

"Oh." He mustered, his face immediately flushing and turning red hot. He was sure this would seem like blubbering dorkiness to the Spy, but he seemed to grin more when he saw this.

"You don't need to be ashamed of being gay, Michael. It is much more common than you would think. _Ton reaction c'est mignon, mon ami._" Spy shook his head and took a graceful sip from his iced tea. Hearing the word "gay" out loud from Spy made Sniper glance around in a panic, and sent chills down his back.

"What do you think yer' playin' at? I ain't gay. And don't act lik yer' the epitomy o' masculinity, alright?" Sniper said in an angry whisper. The Spy shook his head.

"You and I both know what I'm 'playing at', _oui_? And masculinity has nothing to do with it, you of everyone should know that, Michael. But you're right about one thing. I'm not gay. I've never really had the choice." Spy twirled the straw in his drink around while he talked. Michael was starting to wonder if the man just liked to listen to himself talk.

"What do you mean?' Michael asked, raising an eyebrow.

"_Tu est naïve._ I am a Spy. Half of the time, I have to seduce someone to get what I need from them. I have never had a choice in if they are man or woman or anything else. Neither have I cared." The Spy leaned back in his seat, surveying the place. Michael wasn't sure what to say so he drank more of his coke. The waitress returned with their food, making sure to lean down extra far when she handed Spy his food, showing off her abundant cleavage. He thanked her and she glanced back at him multiple times as she walked to the kitchen, again. Sniper realized how easy it must have been for the RED Spy to seduce Scout's mom if all spies found flirting this easy. For a second, he wondered if the Spy was using the same tactics on him, but he doubted it. "I suppose you have guessed that these are my real eyes, _n'est-ce pas?_" The Spy leaned in closer to the Sniper as he ate. Michael nodded. They were damn pretty eyes, too. They fitted him. "One other thing about me right now is the same as my real appearance. Guess. _C'est facile._"

Sniper sat in thought for a moment, staring at the Spy, trying to guess what it could be. Finally, he gave up and guessed his eyebrows. The Spy shook his head, grinning. "Mine are much better. It's my age." The Spy waited for Michael's reaction. Michael quickly swallowed the bit of food in his mouth and stared at the Spy in disbelief.

"But yer'... no. That's too young." The man, more like boy, in front of him, couldn't be older than twenty.

"I'm older than I look. _J'ai vingt-trois ans._ I am twenty three years old." The Spy took another bite of food before swallowing. The Sniper still hadn't recovered his shock enough to say anything. He felt almost guilty. He had kissed someone who was more than ten years younger than him. "You are thirty three, correct?" He didn't know how the Spy knew, but he did. Michael nodded.

The Spy paid for dinner when the waitress returned, despite Michael insisting to pay. Unlike the ride there, the ride back to the town where the battles were taking place was talkative. The Spy and Michael talked about different things on the news and their hobbies outside of killing people. Michael discovered his new friend was a man of many talents, enjoying painting, the opera, cooking, and many other things. He had also discovered that the Spy could be quite funny when he wanted to be and that he never seemed to run out of things to talk about. This was good, because Michael could never think of anything to talk about. When they reached about a mile before the battlefield, Spy requested to be let off. The Sniper pulled over and opened the door, secretly a little sad to see the other man leave.

Before the Spy stepped out of the van, he looked back at Michael. "_Merci beacoup_, that was the best evening I've had in quite some time." He stepped out into the night and left Michael with a funny feeling in his chest.


	7. Suspicious Offers

The next day, Sniper awoke in his bed, peacefully. He usually woke up in a start, but he'd had a good dream. However, when he saw what was in front of him, he jumped. The RED Spy was crouching at the foot of his bunk, watching him with a strange look. Sniper sat up quickly and scrabbled backwards in his bed, reaching around for his kukri, but not finding it. The RED Spy brandished it from behind him, before handing it back to the Sniper.

"I am not here to hurt you, Michael." He laughed like the situation was a riveting comedy.

"What the bloody 'ell is wrong with you!?" Sniper damn near yelled, still frozen, staring at his team's Spy. The Spy frowned for a moment before shaking his head.

"You need my help, and I am offering it to you for a small price." The Spy presented himself like a salesman for a moment. Sniper narrowed his eyes at him, still unsure of what he was talking about. His blood ran cold when he came to the thought that his teammate could know about his escapade with his BLU counterpart the day before. Sniper's mouth moved into a tight, thin line as he waited for the Spy to continue talking. "I will teach you to be a gentleman, how to dress, how to act, how to eat your food, etcetera, in a day, if you do some small things for me."

"Absolutely no way. Get lost, Spy. I don't need t' know how to be a gentleman 'n shite. I'm fine. Now get off of my bloody bed!" Sniper rolled his eyes. Although, he was a little confused. Why would the Spy come to him out of the blue with such a strange offer?

"I'll give you some time it think over it." And with that, he cloaked, leaving Michael behind. Michael had always gotten along better with his teammate than he'd guessed when he first met him, but times like this put that to the test.

Sniper decided to blame it on spies being strange, in general. He showered and made himself some coffee before stepping into his van to drive into town to pick up some extra food for his van's fridge. Engie and Spy's food were great, but they were never quite "snack" material, and Sniper was always in need of things to snack on while he waited long times in his perch. He drove into town, and walked into a grocery store, wandering towards an abandoned aisle of trail mix.

"_Manges-tu cet merde_?" A disgusted French voice came from behind him. He sighed and turned around to find the BLU Spy lighting a cigarette, despite standing in front of a no smoking sign.

"I don't think yer' s'posed to smoke in here, mate. And what you got against trail mix? It's right good for hiking." Michael was surprised by how casual his voice sounded as he questioned the man who until maybe a week earlier, was his worst enemy.

"What I've 'got' is that it's an abomination to food. _Et je fume où je voudrais, mon ami. _I smoke where I like." Spy smirked, as smoke puffed out from his mouth in a thick cloud. Sniper was getting used to his habit of speaking in fast, unintelligible French, followed by a brief translation for the masses. On the battlefield, it had bothered Sniper. It had seemed pretentious. But in this casual conversation, Michael went so far as to enjoy it. French was a nice language to listen to, whether or not he could speak it. "I'm here with an invitation for you, Michael. It would mean _quite a lot_ to me if you came." Spy put a heavy emphasis on his words, causing his accent to deepen throughout the sentence. Sniper frowned, but nodded for the Spy to continue. "There is a... Let's call it _celebration_ for men and women like me tomorrow, and I am in need of a friend to go with. It is rather a tradition to bring a close friend to it."

"Surely you got closer friends, mate." Sniper said, before thinking. Spy gave him a long, exasperated look. There was a hint of something else in it, but Sniper couldn't decipher what it was.

"Spies and assassins, smugglers and billionaires. We will all be there. You apply, so I assumed I would bring you. Can I count on your presence?" Spy looked over Sniper carefully with his narrow eyes. Sniper thought for a second. He was honored, in all honesty. He'd never been invited to any sort of big event, before, besides his high school graduation and some family events, maybe. Then again, it was a Spy who invited him. Could he trust the invitation? At Ricky's, he'd been in control of the situation, but with this, Spy could take him wherever he wanted. He could easily kill him. There was no respawn outside of the field. He realized if he thought any longer, it would be too long.

"Yeah, I'll go. Thanks for the invite." Michael did his best to flash a friendly smile, but he wasn't sure if it looked more like a baring of teeth. Spy nodded back in a dignified manner.

"I assume you have a suit and all of that, then." The Spy said, with a thin eyebrow cocked. Before the Sniper could say that he didn't, Spy cloaked.


	8. The Forbidden Escapade

Immediately, Sniper thought of RED Spy's offer from that morning. However, the closer he got to the base, the less he thought it was a coincidence. Did the Spy know? Spies knew these kinds of things, didn't they? But it wasn't wrong, was it? They were just friends outside of the battlefield. They still killed each other every time they saw each other during work hours. What dirt could he have on them?

When he returned to the base, he hesitated, before going to Spy's library. He briefly and awkwardly told the Spy he had changed his mind. The Spy seemed annoyingly smug about the whole ordeal, and especially as he told the Sniper the price. Sniper just had to agree to keep Scout out of Spy's hair for the rest of the off-hours of the week. Michael had been expecting something much worse. For the rest of the day, RED Spy showed Michael which silverware to eat with and what to say around the 'upper classes'. However, the suit was the main worry of Sniper's. He'd never been able to find a suit that fitted his lanky figure, in his entire life. Hesitantly, he voiced his concern to the RED Spy, who smiled, knowingly.

"I can fix that, do not worry." He seemingly disappeared for a few moments, before returning with a suit that seemed to be much too long for him. "I have a suit in the general size of anyone. M form and shape change constantly for disguises, as you can guess. This should only take some minor altering." Before Michael could thank the Spy, he was in the Sniper's face, a long finger pointed at him. "If you spill _one drop_ on this suit, I _will not hesitate to kill you in the most inhumane ways._ I will not be tacky enough to tell you how much I spent on this suit, but a colleague of mine spent three thousand on its twin."

Although Sniper did not feel ready when the BLU Spy mysteriously arrived in his van the next day, he knew he was as ready as he could be. He was wearing an even more expensive suit than usual, and it fit him like it had been made expressly for him. Knowing Spy, Michael guessed it probably had been. Michael felt awkward and stiff in the suit, but he did his best to look casual. Spy was pulling it off, seemingly with less effort than he put into breathing. Spy gave him a look up and down, before resting his gray eyes and Michael's brown ones. "You look very... dashing, Michael. Your suit is impeccable." The Spy seemed to be looking differently at Michael than he ever had before.

"Uh, yeah, thanks, mate. You look really good yerself." Sniper blushed a deep scarlet, evading Spy's eye contact. He hadn't been lying. The man looked amazing. "Should I be hidin' my identity there? Like you do with the whole," Sniper made a gesture around his face to symbolize Spy's mask. Spy laughed good-naturedly.

"_Non, mon ami._" Spy smiled, and held up his elbow for the other man to take. "Besides, when I bring such a handsome date, it would be a shame to hide their face."

Sniper made a choking noise. "Crikey, I'm the date? I thought this was as, y'know, friends and whatnot?"

"Did you really?" Spy said passively in an almost mocking tone. Sniper frowned and took the other man's elbow, despite him being much taller, and followed him a few feet down the road. They were safe enough away from the base that it seemed safe to be out in the open like they were. Spy fiddled with his watch, and a car appeared in front of the two. It was a black Lincoln Continental in completely spotless condition. Spy told more stories in the car ride, distracting Sniper from his almost worryingly fast driving. Eventually, they arrived in some upscale city that Sniper had never been to. Spy parked the car in an underground lot, not bothering to cloak it this time. He then took Sniper to the very top floor of the connected skyscraper.

Michael had never seen anything remotely like it in his life. Everything in the room was the most luxurious available. Waiters and waitresses were walking around carrying champagne, cognac, caviar, and foie gras on little plates that looked to be made of solid silver and gold. Everyone was chatting with one another quietly, with charming smiles and expensive clothes. Most of them were wearing masks, like Spy.

"Ah, if it isn't my favorite pair." A French-accented voice came from their immediate side. Spy turned, letting Michael see the RED Spy standing next to them. Sniper expected him to threaten to tell on them or act surprised, but he seemed like he knew. A beautiful woman maybe a year or so older than the BLU Spy was hanging on his arm. (A/N: I'm super sorry for not using accents in my French here, my computer makes it really hard to type them, so hopefully you can understand without them! Sorry!)

"_Ca va?" _RED asked, watching the BLU Spy intently.

"_Ca va, et toi_?" He replied. Michael had always assumed both of their voices were pretty similar because of their accent and tone, but hearing the two talk to each other made him realize the deeper quality of RED's voice and the more melodic hint to BLU's.

"_Ca va, merci. Est-ce qu tu as voir notre professor_?" RED Spy absently ran his hands up and down the girl on his side's arm.

"_Non, desole. Je ne veux pas se voiri. J'ai mon assassin et mes amis. Je suis content._ We'll keep it at that, yes?" BLU Spy nodded politely at RED Spy and they were their separate ways, after a brief "_A demain."_ Sniper waved awkwardly to him as he left.

Michael followed Spy to a large table, where he sat down next to a woman wearing a black dress. They conversed in French for a while, and Michael started to wonder if all Spies were French, until another man sat down and they began to speak in German and her German sounded just as good as Medic's. As if on cue, Spy leaned over and whispered to Michael that she knew the RED Medic very well.

"_Et qui cet?" _She smiled warmly at Sniper.

"_C'est un ami par Teufort. Il parle anglais."_

_ "Ah, il est beau."_

_ "Je sais." _Spy grinned smugly, glancing at Sniper, who was starting to feel slightly elft out with all of the other languages surrounding him.

"Nice to meet you." The woman smiled at Sniper and shook his hand. He grinned back, unsure of who she was or what to do. "I knew both of the Spies you know when they were in training. I am familiar with your medic, as well." She studied Michael. "They all speak highly of you."

Her and Spy carried on small talk for a while until she left to speak with someone else. "She has killed over three hundred people." Spy commented casually as she left. Sniper raised in eyebrows. He was genuinely impressed. "She has also never even received a speeding ticket. That is her extent with the law." Spy laughed. More and more interesting, multilingual, and attractive people would sit down and talk with Spy in some language or another, and he kept ordering drink after drink. Michael had thought he didn't drink, and so he asked him about it.

"This is the one day of the year. " Spy laughed. "Surprised you remembered." He seemed just as impressed about that as Michael had been about his friend.

As the night drew on, Spy seemed to become drowsy or something and he decided to leave. As they got into the car, Spy surprisingly staggered to the passenger side. Sniper had expected him to drive him back to the base and then go off to wherever Spies slept. Maybe he was too drunk to drive? Michael didn't mention it, and got into the driver's seat.

"Drive me to my hotel." Spy said in a bossy tone that Michael wasn't sure he liked.

"What 'bout yer' car?" Sniper started it and began to pull out of the secret parking ramp. Spy waved his hand ridiculously.

"Bah! Keep the car, I do not care! It's not mine. _Mais, c'est un bon voiture._" Spy's accent was thicker than Michael had ever heard it before. His tone was excited and yet, somehow much less on-edge than it usually was. Sniper shrugged and began to follow the vague instructions Spy gave to his hotel. Occasionally, he would say them in French and realize a second later that Michael couldn't understand and correct himself. The entire car ride he blabbered on and on, switching between French and English, telling insane stories that Sniper could not bring himself to believe, despite their amusing quality. Michael could see why the enigmatic man sitting next to him didn't drink very often.

They finally reached the hotel Spy had been talking about. It was a monster of a building, made of black marble with large windows and balconies. Sniper looked up at it in wonder. Spy whipped around to stare at Michael. "Walk me in, they cannot see me drunk! They'll know I am weak!" He nearly whispered. Michael found himself chuckling.

"Alrigh', mate. If you say so." Michael laughed to himself as the Spy staggered into the hotel. He expected him to check out a room, but it seemed that he already had. He insisted on using the stairs to get up to the third floor, and eventually found his room, fumbling with the key. Before Sniper could tell him that he would be on his way, Spy pushed the door open and looked him dead in the eye.

"I am sorry for the mess." Spy walked into his room with an expression that somewhat resembled embarrassment. The hotel room was spotless, besides a few papers left around the tables and a spare suitcase on the floor. It was a double room suite, with a living room and a sleeping room and bathroom. Spy sat down in the chair, somehow not making any sound and still managing to be graceful, despite his inebriated state.

"_Je te trouve interessant." _Spy mumbled at Sniper, who had started to walk out the door. He figured he was talking to himself, since it had been so quiet and in French. But as he went to grab the door handle, Spy spoke up again. "_Je veux tu me baiser." _He said in an almost whiny voice.

"Spy, I don't know what that means." Sniper said in an exasperated tone. Spy stood up quickly, walking briskly towards the other man. Sniper braced himself, expecting the man to lash out or reach for a weapon, but instead, he grabbed the sides of the taller man's suit coat and pulled him closer with a strength Michael hadn't known the Spy had. The forceful grace and sudden tension between him and the Spy caused Michael to take his hand off the doorknob and follow his sworn enemy into his bedroom. Something at the front of his mind was screaming no, but the rest of his body was yelling the opposite.

The shorter man removed his suit coat in a single motion, causing a lump in Michael's throat. He couldn't go through with this, could he? But he knew he didn't have a choice. Like Spy had said at their trip to Ricky's, he seduced people for a living. And that became almost painfully obvious, a moment later. He kissed Michael for the second time since they'd met, but this kiss was different. It wasn't apologetic, or quick, or scared, like the first one had been. It was frantic yet long, and seemed to be made up almost entirely of lust. Spy pulled him towards the bed, pushing off Michael's suit coat and unbuttoning his first few buttons in the process. Spy pulled off his tie and gracefully slid onto the bed. Sniper took off his shoes and socks quickly, realizing Spy already had. When had he done that? Sniper shook his head and climbed on to the Spy in a haze. Michael kissed the Spy, unsure of what else to do. Spy reciprocated, along with hands that seemed to be finding their way lower and lower. Michael found himself surprised by how skinny the Spy felt beneath him, and how vulnerable. The Sniper was by no means a big guy, he'd always been lanky, but hunched over the man beneath him, he felt dominant and in control. It scared him how much it reminded him of when he got entrenched in battle.

A well timed clench from the man beneath him brought him out of his thoughts. Spy was moving onto his neck with his lips and Sniper breathed heavily into his ear. "Michael..." Spy breathed in a needy voice into the crook of his neck. All of it, Spy's voice, the kissing, the worryingly talented hands, it all lent itself to Michael emitting a sound somewhere between a moan and growl. Before he could continue holding himself back any longer, his hands were on the thin man and he was throwing away his basic intuition.


	9. Bonne chance

Michael woke up the next morning satisfied and comfortable. For a moment, he forgot where he was, and enjoyed the rare sensation of feeling like he'd had enough sleep. Then, as he began to wake up more, he felt the warmth of the body his arm was over. And he heard the soft breathing of someone. And last night's memories came back to him as a sick feeling settled in his stomach. He cussed himself out in his head, wondering how he could have betrayed not only his own team, but the life he'd settled for himself, because he couldn't handle someone turning him on.

But for some reason, as the previous night's escapades played out in his head, he felt less and less miserable about the whole thing. Was he really attracted to the Spy or had he just never been able to express his sexuality in a physical way before? Either way, it was a bad situation. Despite all of that, he remembered enjoying the contact. Spy was alluring and skilled, to say the least, in bed. They hadn't had sex. Sniper wasn't ready for that. But they'd done just about everything else. For someone whose life was built on being quiet, Spy sure wasn't in bed. Thinking of him, Sniper smirked. The comfortable hotel bed's sheets and blankets were thick and fluffy, making it hard to see the Spy over them. Something told Michael that if he moved too much, the masked man would immediately wake up. Wait. Masked man. Michael's eyes widened to a comical state when he realized that the Spy's ever-present blue mask was lying with the rest of their clothes, discarded at the foot of their bed. He knew he hadn't seen the Spy's face the previous night. When had he taken off the mask?

Sniper's curiosity got the better of him. He turned to look at the man lying next to him. He was sleeping on his side, body turned away from the Sniper. All that he could see of the man, was a tiny section of his upper back and a tuft of feathery black hair. Michael inspected the man with his eyes. His skin was paler than he'd thought. It was soft and unblemished, unlike Sniper's sun-beaten skin. The only disruption to the milky layer of Spy's skin were numerous scars, most of them looking like burn marks. Scattered visions from the night before reminded Michael's of what looked like cigarette burns littered across one of the Spy's upper arms, the other covered up to his shoulder in a smooth, thin layer of healed burn tissue. Sniper couldn't hold back any longer, and he'd figured he'd already thrown away his common sense, so he leaned over the Spy to get a look at that hidden face. He wondered what he'd see. Would he be handsome? Ugly? Older than he said?

However, as soon as Sniper braced his arm on the mattress, Spy disappeared. Michael jerked back in surprise. A second later, the mask disappeared in a similar matter from the floor. Sniper sighed in his misfortune. The Spy reappeared, only in his boxers and mask and walked briskly to a nearby table and picked up a robe, which he threw on. Without saying a word, he sagged into the chair next to him, dug in his robe pocket and pulled out another cigarette case. He lit a cigarette and began smoking it furiously, his eyes unfocused and staring blankly at the wall in front of him. After maybe thirty seconds of no speaking or breaking eye contact with the wall, Sniper sat up, pushing himself to the back of the bed.

"You alright, mate?" He swallowed, trying his best to sound casual.

"_On a bousille_." Spy said quietly, still staring at the wall. Sniper didn't know the exact translation, but he could tell from his tone it was something along the lines of, _we fucked up. Big time._ Sniper sighed in frustration and regret, bringing a palm to his forehead. Sniper was running through his thoughts, trying to think of someway that they could just forget it had ever happened. A little piece of him was telling him to stop, telling him he wanted it to continue. But this time, his basic sense won. While engrossed in his own worries, he hadn't noticed the Spy's situation. The Spy was breathing erratically and quickly, his small chest heaving up and down, nearly every single rib visible in strain. His mouth was twitching and his eyes had remained glassy and unfocused, but his eyebrows had shot up in worry, visible through his mask. "They're going to kill me. _Je ne peux pas morte._" He said softly, gripping the arm of the chair so hard his knuckles went white.

For the first time, Michael noticed his state, and got up from the bed with a pained sigh and a stretch and quickly walked towards his former enemy. "Hey, it'll be alright. We'll just forget it happened, yeah?" He had hoped for his voice to sound dominant and comforting, but it came out nervous and uncertain. Spy looked him in the eyes and his breathing completely stopped. The ragged breaths went silent and his gray eyes focused intently on Michael. He said nothing for a moment and moved so little you'd think he was a statue. His face broke into what almost looked like a smile. Michael was taken aback.

"I am very lucky." He breathed, his posture suddenly relaxing. Michael's face was filled with lines of confusion. Spy noticed this and looked up at Sniper through his lashes. "If you were any other person I have ever known, you would have told. The administrator, Mrs. Pauling, your team, my team, it does not matter. _Mais, tu ne vais pas en._ But you would not. Thank you."

"O' course I wouldn't say anything. I ain't like that. And even if I were, I'm not puttin' myself out there like that to either team. Yer' an easy person to hate, yeah, but yer' still my friend." Sniper shrugged and sat on the foot of the bed, facing the Spy. Spy was looking down at Michael's chest. Michael followed his eyes to the barely visible faint lines that Spy had carved into his chest those weeks ago. _Tu est moi_. Spy looked down at the ground, when he noticed Michael's glance. He seemed ashamed, but he didn't apologize, so Sniper said nothing.

"It was the only way I knew how to talk to you." Spy said quickly, still avoiding eye contact. Michael shook his head; it was his way of saying it was okay without having to say it. Spy opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then he closed it again. This happened one more time before he finally spoke up. "I had thought that I just found you... interesting." Spy seemed to hesitate more and more with every word. Michael stayed quiet, letting him talk. "Because you were different than your other teammates. I... I had assumed I was just looking for someone I could have anything in common with in this God forsaken place. _J'ai etre naïve._ You are... You are more than I imagined you to be. Less of a playmate, more of an equal."

Sniper furrowed his brow at Spy. He didn't quite get what he was trying to say.

"Michael, I... I want to be with you."


	10. Comforting Accents

"Michael, I... I want to be with you." The Spy looked up at Michael with the most open and honest expression the sniper guessed a Spy could have.

"What?" He managed to choke out in shock. Since when had a Spy ever wanted to _be_ with someone? Much less... Michael.

"I find you intriguing. You are safe and that is a luxury I can usually not afford. If you want to turn down my offer, I understand and I will forget this whole encounter happened." The Spy was watching the assassin carefully, his chin resting absent mindedly on his open palm. Michael's mind was reeling wildly. What if someone found out? It surely went against the contract, didn't it? And if they were together, could they really kill each other on the battlefield? If they didn't, it would hurt their team, and if they did... well what sort of horrible unhealthy relationship was that? Sniper gulped, looking at the floor, hesitating. "Very well. I'll see you tomorrow in battle." Spy stood from his chair and started to open the door for Sniper to leave, but Michael shook his head quickly.

"Blimey Spy, I... I'd love to be with you." He surprised himself with speaking. He hadn't meant to even say anything yet. Spy's head whipped around in surprise. Had Michael just surprised a Spy of all people? "I mean, we're gonna have to do some things different from yer' everyday couple, but we could make it work, right? We're both competent guys, yeah?" Michael sputtered, unsure of what to say. He'd never said yes to being asked out in his whole life. It was terrifying. His heart was beating desperately in his chest and his palms were shaking. Spy was still looking at him in surprise. "Well shite, you're actin' like you've seen a ghost-" Michael started to laugh.

"I hadn't expected a yes." Spy said quietly, his voice was different than usual. "_Tu vas etre un bon amour._"

"I hadn't expected you t' ask." Michael scratched his neck awkwardly. They agreed to meet again the next day after battle, in Sniper's van, since it would be much easier for Spy to get to the RED side, than for Sniper to get to the BLU side. Sure enough, the next day, he mysteriously arrived in Sniper's van, still wearing his suit and mask. Sniper was uneasy about the whole thing, at first.

"Hey Spy?" He asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice betraying the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

"_Oui?_" Spy cocked a delicate eyebrow and waited.

"How do I know yer' not just doin' this for your team? Or to turn me in t' the Administrator?" Sniper shifted in the driver's seat. Spy grinned, his head leaning back in a relaxed pose.

"_Tu est amusant, mon tueur à gages_. We can agree to never speak of the war, at all, if that assures you of my intentions." He offered, his smile was good natured enough. But Sniper was too smart for that.

"That's bull." He frowned and crossed his arms.

"_Pourquoi?_ Why is that?" Spy chuckled, seemingly impressed at something or another.

"Yer' a bloody spy! We don't need t' talk about battles for ye' t' get all the information you need. Ye could easily look through my things... or just know 'em somehow." Sniper looked at the Spy with a firm expression. The Spy's face finally seemed to become at least marginally more serious. He waited for the Sniper to offer something else, a curious expression on his face. "What's yer' name?" Michael finally asked, staring at the Spy, who hesitated. "I don't need the whole bit, just yer' first name is all. You can handle that much."

"Guess." Spy bit back playfully and for a moment, Michael was reminded both of why he enjoyed spending time with the Spy outside of the battlefield, as well as why he was always such a satisfying kill on it.

"I dunno. Somethin' all French-y." Michael's frown deepened and he tried to concentrate. Spy roared with laughter at the comment.

"Oh, you've caught me, bushman! It is I, Napoleon Baguette, the noble Spy!" He laughed again and Sniper found himself grinning along with him, even if he didn't want to. Spy paused for a moment like he was making a decision. "My name is Bastien." He watched the Sniper's reaction carefully.

"I could go and tell my team that, right now." Sniper said in a faraway voice.

"And I could have easily lied." Spy retorted.

"It's a nice name. It suits you." Michael said, looking into Bastien's alluring gray eyes. He grinned but said nothing else as Michael started the van and started to drive somewhere. After an hour or so of the radio swinging sweetly, Michael pulled into a parking lot. "You know how to bowl?" He asked and Bastien shrugged.

"If not, I will learn." He reasoned and stepped out of the car. By the time Michael had gotten to the other side of the car, Bastien was an entirely different person, once again. As always, the silver eyes stayed, as well as his shockingly young age. But everything else was different. He was tall and broad shouldered, with a mop of light hair instead of the usual dark. His clothes were what Michael assumed the kids wore those days, but he wasn't sure. As they walked inside and got the bowling shoes, Michael did his best not to act surprised when he had a conversation with the woman working the counter in a perfect Australian accent.

"Blimey, how'd you do that?" Michael asked when he returned from the counter with their shoes.

"The accent? Lots of trainin' is all." He shrugged nonchalantly, still with his perfect accent, but he snuck a wink at Michael. He wondered if he'd met the Spy for the first time that night, if he'd been able to tell him from one of his neighbors at all. He doubted it and that scared him a little. But then again, part of what attracted him to the Spy was the sense of danger and mystique that seemed to surround him, so it wasn't a surprise to Michael.


	11. King's Corner

The next day during battle, the payload was intense. Just as Michael respawned, he started running back to where they'd last had the cart moving. Engie's teleporters had been sapped by none other than Michael's mysterious little friend, if that was what you would call him. He started to continue running before he saw Spy's figure flicker by the wall for a moment. He considered stopping and shooting him, after all it was his duty and the Spy would just respawn somewhere less annoying, but he decided not to and continued to run, until he heard Medic's voice calling out for him.

"Sniper! Sniper there is a spy!" Medic's voice said frantically and he looked back to see Medic and his own team's Spy a little behind him, near where he'd seen Bastien. He swore under his breath and jogged over, quickly. To avoid the two while his cloak recharged, Bastien had jumped off the rock next to the wall, but it had proved to only make it worse, allowing him to be spotted. Spy was shooting at him, but he was out of range for the other two's guns. Sniper sighed, trying to hide his discomfort and quickly looked through his scope and the quickly running figure in the distance. Suddenly, the figure turned invisible. But Sniper had been battling this Spy so long he knew exactly what he was doing. He took aim and shot at what looked like simple air, but in a moment, Bastien crumpled to the ground, somehow still looking graceful in death. Medic whistled and he continued to run off with Spy towards the payload. Sniper followed quickly behind, but he stopped when they both ducked into a nearby room. He stopped and waited.

Normally, Sniper didn't give a rat's ass about what his teammates talked about with each other, but because of Spy and Medic's weird habits recently and the fact that it was during a battle, made the temptation too strong for Sniper and he froze, waiting.

"_Elle a dit il est un espion pour ils."_ Spy muttered quickly in French and Medic was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his French was broken and heavily accented, but Spy still seemed to understand it.

"_C'est impossible. Je sais l'espion c'est un d'on."_ Medic said in a slightly nervous tone. Spy swallowed and they both came out of the room. Sniper ducked behind the other room just in time. Or so he thought. "_Vas_?" Asked Medic, switching back to his normal German.

"Over there. I think it's that Spy again, he may have had dead ringer." Spy said in a voice that was both bored and threatening. Sniper swallowed nervously. He'd been caught. Should he risk them finding him. He looked to his side and sighed in relief. An ammo pack. He picked it up and walked out of the room, doing his best to seem oblivious.

"Oh, hey again." He smiled politely at the two men and they nodded back, before splitting ways. Spy headed towards the enemy base, Medic towards the battle. Sniper perched up in his room and thought. He didn't know French, but what could Medic and Spy be talking about so often behind everyone's backs? Everyone on the team had secrets. Hell, two of them didn't even show their faces, but with two of them to share a secret like that… Although wasn't it pretty similar to what Sniper was doing? But with the enemy? He felt sudden guilt consuming him and he clenched a fit around the trigger, sighing angrily at himself. Luckily, the battle was over soon. They'd managed to get the payload across and BLU was jeering angrily while Sniper's teammates chased them off with violent war cries and ubered weapons. Sniper chuckled to himself, it was always somewhat amusing to watch. Then again, it was less fun being on the receiving end. Speaking of that sort of thing… If him and Spy ever were to… who would… Sniper suddenly sat up, rubbing his eyes. _That wasn't going to happen_. _He would betray his team just for sex_. Him and Spy were friends off of the battlefield and that was that. They would meet up and do things that friends did and then when the battle came, they'd have no qualms killing each other.

But if it did happen, Bastien would be the receiving one. Not that it mattered or was going to happen.

It wasn't a big deal, though. Just speculation.

That Sniper wasn't thinking about at all.

Well, maybe a little. But not a lot. Well-

Sniper needed to clear his head. He sighed and squinted his eyes shut before opening them and getting a headshot on one of the enemies who hadn't been attacked after the loss, yet. He packed up his gun and started the trek back towards the base. When he arrived, he immediately went to the dining hall for lunch, which Engie had graciously prepared for everyone. He thanked him before eating over a game of King's Corner with Demo and Heavy. Heavy laughed heartily when he won and Demo begged Sniper to keep the game going, but Michael just shook his head.

"I'm beat, I need a nap. I dunno how yer' al so awake." He shook his head and stood up from the table. He retreated to his room and started to lie down, before he realized there was someone else in the bed. Someone invisible. Bastien uncloaked, eyes drowsy behind his mask and looked up at the Sniper, carefully. "Were you… were you sleepin' in here?" Michael frowned and moved, to give the Spy more room.

"_Non_. I do not sleep on enemy territory. I just needed somewhere to rest." Spy sat up and Sniper locked the door, quickly. When he turned back around, he realized that Spy was no longer wearing his suit jacket. It was laid out primly next to him on Sniper's bed. He was wearing one of those thin, white shirts that Sniper hated wearing. The kind of crisp shirt that people wear under their suits. He had suspenders on, but the tie was also sitting on the bed.

"Why are you here, anyway?" Michael's brow was furrowed in confusion at the shorter man. Bastien shrugged slightly, pulling a cigarette from his suit jacket. Michael reached over and stopped him. "Don't smoke in here. They'll smell it and know it's not mine."

"Don't you smoke?" Spy scowled and put the cigarette away.

"Not inside and not ones that smell like that." He gestured at the expensive, flavored cigarettes and Bastien sighed heavily, sounding almost like a child. "That ain't like you." Michael frowned again and Bastien looked back, questioningly. "To not know somethin' about me."

"My apologies," Bastien laughed back at him, a little. "You are right, I got sloppy. You don't smoke on the battlefield, so I've never had to put thought into you smoking." Bastien stood up and started to button his shirt up and straighten the sleeves. Bastien shrugged on his jacket. "Coming?" He looked over his shoulder at Michael, who stood up quickly. Too quickly. He looked too giddy. Sniper took a breath and regained his composure.

"You say you want to be with me, but you don't even know if I smoke?" Michael raised an eyebrow and the masked man and he laughed again, shaking his head. "Y'know, a lot of people think that's a big deal." Michael looked at him. Bastien's mouth crooked up a little when their eyes connected.

"Ah yes, I, a chainsmoker, am very opposed to a partner who smokes." Bastien's accent got lighter, but his voice got lower when he joked around. It was attractive to Michael in a weird way.

"Well what do ya' care fer' that kinda thing?" Michael said, trying to sound casual. Bastien made sudden and intense eye contact. It almost startled Michael how heavy the gaze suddenly got.

"I don't." He said simply and reached into his pocket, breaking the gaze to dig around for something. He sighed heavily again and looked back at Michael. "I do not have the liberty to care, Michael. _J'ai un mal et grand histoire_. If that's what you're worried about, don't be. Anything you've done, I've done worse. Besides the jar piss." Bastien wrinkled his nose at the last part and Michael frowned.

"It ain't that bad, really. It saves a lotta time and it works when yer' fightin'." Michael explained, trying to sound professional. Bastien just wrinkled his nose, again.


	12. Présage

They walked out into the main hall, Bastien cloaked and invisible. It threw Michael off, he couldn't tell where the spy was or what he was doing. It was like being in battle, but in a much more… informal and less aggravating way. As long as they didn't run into anybody-

"Well howdy, Mike!" Dell smiled widely at the Australian and clapped him on the back. "Where ya' off to?"

"Uh…" Michael hesitated, trying to look casual. "Just out for some dinner." Michael caught himself and nodded. He usually would invite Engie or just sneak off before anyone could go with, but he didn't. He wanted to be with Bastien in a weird way. Engie seemed to notice, because he looked over Sniper with a strange gaze and then his eyes suddenly opened wider.

"Oh… are you y'know, goin' out with a lady?" Engie elbowed Michael a little and he managed a weak chuckle.

"Somethin' like that, I guess." Michael nodded again and Dell smiled before suddenly freezing completely.

"Do you smell that?" He sniffed and looked around, holding his arms up in a defensive position.

"What?"

"Spy cologne. And our Spy still ain't home so it sure as hell ain't him." Dell reached for his wrench and held it aloft, swinging it wildly around him, hoping to hit the Spy. Still cloaked, Bastien was standing ten feet away with a bored expression and his arms crossed. For being so innovative with machines, engineers never seemed to learn. Sniper sniffed the air and his expression lit up for a moment, an idea coming to him.

"I think it's me, Dell. I got real close to the enemy Spy during the fight, today. Haven't had a chance to change clothes an' that stuff sticks like crazy." Michael shook his head, pretending to be disgusted. In the background, Bastien frowned secretly. How dare those imbeciles talk about his cologne like it was any of the cheap shit they could afford. He took a deep breath and calmed down. He couldn't expect a Sniper or an Engineer to know as well as he did about such things. Michael and Dell waved their goodbyes and went on their way. Once they were out of the base safely, and in the parking lot for the Mercs' cars, Bastien uncloaked, the noise echoing dangerously.

"Let's take my car." Bastien said passively and started walking in a different direction. Michael shrugged and followed him to a car similar to the one they'd taken to that other event. A little nicer and cleaner and Michael was surprised Spy had the guts to leave it out in the open.

"Bastien, you can't leave this out here like this. What if one of my mates saw it? You'd get killed!" Michael's voice was almost hissed in worry and frustration. Bastien snorted.

"I highly doubt any members of RED would be able to make the connection. Besides, why worry? It is my neck, not yours."

"But yer' my friend." Michael frowned and Bastien suddenly looked up at him, a strange look in his eyes. Michael hadn't seen a look like that since the kiss. Bastien shook his head and got into the car. Feeling satisfied at surprising the Spy for once, Michael smirked as he got in. "Where are we going?"

"Your decision." Bastien started the car and began to drive, before hearing where they were going. "Or I can just drive." Bastien was looking at the road, his eyes focused. Almost too focused. Michael just watched him as he drove. Bastien's skin that could be seen through the mask looked soft and his eyes balanced it with their cold, focused look. Michael wondered if that was what he looked like as he crept up on a backstab. He looked nice. Well at least he probably looked nice whenever he killed Michael on the field.

"Have your teammates acted strangely, lately?" Bastien asked suddenly, glancing at Michael for a moment. He hesitated. He didn't want to talk about his team with Bastien. Friend or not, he was still on the enemy team. But surely talking about something like strange behaviour wouldn't be detrimental to them. What could Bastien even gather from that?

"No. Well, maybe, but not more than I've noticed." That was a lie. Medic and Spy's secret conversations had been bothering him, continually pricking at the back of his mind.

"You're not a very good liar, Mr. Mundy." Bastien said, suddenly switching back to the the more formal name.

"Well why do you even care? It's none of yer' business." Michael looked away and frowned. Bastien grimaced.

"Can I trust you?" Bastien looked over and Michael nodded slowly. Bastien sighed and looked back at the road. "My teammates have been acting strangely. Particularly the medic. I feel like they are hiding something from me. I was hoping I wasn't alone in it." Bastien sighed and leaned his elbow up against the window, slightly. Michael didn't say anything, for fear he would accidentally reveal something. Then again, Bastien had just opened up to him. But no. Michael had thrown away most of his self-control, but he was still not going to put his teammates in danger. Thinking of that, something occurred to him.

"Wait, Bastien…" He frowned and the shorter man sat up a little more behind the steering wheel. "If you can get in t' the base so easily, why do ya' waste yer' time on the battlefield. If you kill us off of it, we aren't respawnin'." Michael's brow was furrowed and for a while, Bastien was quiet.

"I just don't care." Bastien said after a pause. "I have tried, in the past. I went after your engineer after a violent battle. He brought up a sensitive topic after I sapped his… thing." Bastien looked off into the distance, his eyes less focused. "Your Spy caught me. We knew each other a long time ago. I have not tried since." As the spy finished speaking, Michael stayed quiet. The Spy had gotten so close. He would have thanked his own Spy if it wouldn't give him away. Bastien took a deep breath and pulled over. "Michael. I need to tell you something." Bastien said in a serious voice and looked intently at Michael through the mask.

"Yeah?" He was worried about it. When had Bastien ever acted like this? Did he want to break up already?

"I trust you." Bastien said and Michael waited patiently for him to make his point. But he didn't. That was the point. Michael furrowed his brow and looked back at Bastien, but before he could speak, he was interrupted. "Don't trust me. No matter what happens, do not trust me, Michael. Think of me as a friend or a lover or an enemy or whatever makes you comfortable but do not trust me and do not rely on me for things you know I cannot do."


	13. Distractions

They drove for a while, Michael thinking over Bastien's words. Bastien dropped him back off at the base, and before Michael could say a goodbye or any other final statement, he was gone. Michael cursed under his breath and headed back into the base, scratching the back of his neck. They had a battle tomorrow, Payload, and he needed to get ready for it, anyway. He was in his room, setting up his rifle and cleaning it, when Medic walked in.

"_Hallo, Michael_." He nodded politely and Michael greeted him back. "It's a nice day, _ja_?"

"Yeah, real nice, innit?" The Sniper grinned and continued to work, moving on to cleaning the kukri. Medic sat down in his bed and watched Sniper for a brief moment before speaking up, again.

"Have you seen Spy today?" Medic tilted his head, innocently.

"Nah, sorry Medic. Dell said he still ain't home, though, so I'm guessin' he's still out doin' whatever it is he does." Sniper managed a laugh, but Medic looked troubled.

"Alright, Michael. Well, thank you for the help. I'll see you at the battle, tomorrow." Medic nodded and left, presumably off to the games room.

The next day came quickly and the battle wasn't a remarkable one, to say the least. It was just a repetition of what most Payload battles were. That was, until the second to last push. Sniper was setting up in a new perch, when something knocked him off his feet and against the wall. He grabbed his kukri off his belt, but a quick hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

"You won't be needing that, Michael." A husky, french accent purred and Michael dropped the kukri in surprise.

"Bastien? What are ya' doin' here? We're in a battle!" Sniper started, but Bastien put a finger to his lips, shushing him slowly. "Bastien, what the-" Michael trailed off as Bastien's hand on his lips trailed down his chest, achingly deliberate in its pace. Bastien's hand stopped at Michael's belt and nimble, trained hands started on it. Michael just stared down, shocked. Bastien was a horny, sneaky bastard, that was true, but he wasn't like this. He was only like this when he was trying to get something out of someone. "Why're you here?"

"I could not wait. Both of our teams are focused on other tasks, it is the most… opportune moment, _n'est-ce pas_?" He bit his lip and slowly sank to his knees, eyes locked with Michael's the whole time. Michael's chest was heaving and he didn't know what to do besides watch Bastien finish undoing his belt, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Bastien bit the tip of his glove and pulled it off with nothing but his teeth and Michael could have sworn that his heart just up and stopped beating for a minute. He glanced back from Bastien's glove to look at those beautiful, gray eyes of his, when he noticed something that pulled him out of the fantasy for a second. A greenish tint was spreading right where the left eyehole of Bastien's mask ended. Michael put his hand on Bastien's cheek, like it was just a loving caress, and then brushed his thumb along the edge of the mask, just enough to confirm what he thought. An old bruise.

In a split second, Sniper grabbed both of Bastien's wrists and shoved him to the floor, getting on top of him. "What are you supposed to be distracting me from?" He asked quietly, voice full of barely contained rage. He should have known. He knew Bastien was on the amoral side, but he didn't think he'd stoop low enough to whore himself out to Michael for his team. Especially when he acted so much like he didn't care about them.

Instantly, Bastien clammed up and just stared back at Michael, coldly. Sniper shook him, violently, but he didn't respond, still. Sniper grabbed his rifle from where Bastien had knocked it away and he looked through the scope just quick enough to see the enemy Heavy and Medic sneaking quietly off the battlefield, towards the RED base. He shot them both through the head without hesitating and then turned to Bastien, who was surprisingly still there, lying on the floor. His suit coat was only on haphazardly and his mask was still slightly pushed to the side slightly. He looked damn hot, it was a shame.

"Let's get one thing straight, Bastien, we ain't using this," Sniper gestured between the two of them, "As a battle strategy, yeah? Or I think yer' _really_ gonna regret it, alright?" He felt more like himself than he had at all for the last week or so, kneeling over the Spy, eyes harsh and predatory.

"_J'ai n'eu pas un choix. _I did not have a choice, Michael, or I would have avoided it." The Spy responded quietly.

"Yer' lyin'. We both know it." Sniper frowned and grabbed his kukri, holding it to the smaller man's neck.

"Please, Michael, as your friend-"

"Please what? Don't kill you? You'll respawn, don't be dramatic."

"Please do not tell your teammates." Bastien said and then shrank away from the knife at Michael's look.

"You can't be my friend when you need protectin', but then turn into my enemy when you want to win, Bastien. It ain't how friends work."

"_Non_, you don't understand, Michael," Bastien was trying to sit up under Michael, his eyes widened with fear. "If they think that your team knows, tonight, you will never see me again. If they don't kill me, they will lock me up somewhere far away from here. You can tell them another time, but please, Michael, listen to me just this once." Bastien was breathing heavily, eyes darting around the small room.

"You're their teammate-"

"Not my team, the others! The men who work for BLU!" Bastien shook his head and Michael finally leaned off of Bastien, who immediately shrank away into the corner. "_Please, Michael_."

"Fine." Michael sighed and threw the kukri aside, putting a hand to his forehead and rubbing his temples. "Why were yer' teammates tryin' to leave the battle?"

"_C'est classe secret_." Bastien said, but changed at Michael's dark look. "They wanted to see if it was possible, alright? To see if you can leave a battle once it has started. I do not know why, but they told me it was extremely important. They knew you would be the only one to notice, because of your position, so they told me to distract you at any cost. I said no at first, and I was… persuaded through force." Bastien was fixing his suit and Michael sighed again.

"Just get out of here." Michael said and Bastien nodded, nimbly jumping out the perch and cloaking into nothingness.

That night, after the battle, Michael walked into his camper, sore from the day's fighting. He made himself a cup of decaf and sat down to read a good book on hunting, before he heard a swift knock on his door. He opened it, unsure of who he would find. However, when Bastien was standing in the doorway, Michael didn't feel surprised at all. He wasn't wearing his suit coat or tie and his shirt was unbuttoned a button more than usual. He looked casual, or as casual as Spies could get, maybe.

"I came to apologize for betraying your faith in me on the battle ground this morning. I still meant what I said. You cannot trust me. But I realize that I overstepped even that agreement." Bastien was looking away as he spoke.

"S'alright. You said yourself that your team forced you. I overreacted, yeah?" Sniper opened the door a bit wider, checking the parking lot for any of his teammates and then letting the Spy into his camper. Spy sat down and watched Michael drink his decaf coffee. "I mean, hell, I should cut ya' some slack, yer' barely more than a kid. Yer' only twenty-three."

"Hah. I was never a 'kid', Michael," Bastien stood up and took a step to lean over Michael's seat. "I never had time for innocence." He whispered the last part, mouth quirking into a smirk. Michael put the coffee down and kissed him deeply, tasting his cinnamon gum and cool cigarettes. Something about that felt much more natural than whatever had happened on the battlefield earlier. He could somehow tell that it was more genuine. He stood up and picked up the smaller man, lifting him onto the bed in his camper. Bastien's eyes were clear and a little color was starting to show under his mask. His arms were up by his head and he was smiling at Michael. _God, he looks nice_. Michael thought to himself and then worked through his buttons. He put his face in the crook of Bastien's neck, taking in the scent of his expensive cologne and the warmth of his could feel the younger man on his leg and he felt a surge of adrenaline at what was about to come.

Michael woke the next morning, feeling content and dead tired. He looked over, surprised to see Bastien's mask off. Because of how he was sleeping, only the back of his head was visible to Michael. Feathery black hair and a pale neck with a few freckles on it. Michael reached out to touch Bastien's cheek, but he suddenly seemed to wake and grab the mask.

"Michael if you compromise my identity, I would have to kill you." He sighed, covering his face with one hand and starting to put the mask on with the other.

"Alright, then I won't look. But leave it off." He said in a hopeful voice. Bastien groaned and put the mask down, but stayed turned away. Michael smiled and ran his fingers through Bastien's hair.


End file.
